“Perhaps,” she suggested, “the unpleasant things which have happened to me are partly my own fault.” “Your fault? You feel you have faults?” A glint lighted the agate gaze as he questioned her. “I lack,” she confessed, “religion. It was left out of my life. My father was, I think, embittered against it. He was very good to me, but he didn’t send me to Sunday school any more than to public school. Perhaps if he had, I’d have grown up more like other girls--more self-reliant, less afraid.” “And less yourself,” he objected. “You have, I think, remarkable self-control.” “You don’t know how glad I am to hear you say so, Dr. Willard. That has been my only religion--self-control. It is very strange that a person to whom I never spoke--whom I never saw but once--gave me the ambition to learn it.” At his show of interest, Dolores recited the incident. “I was quite a small girl, eight or nine, I guess. My father had left me to wait in a railway station one day. I was worried because often he--because I was afraid we’d miss our train. There was a lady sitting near me, also waiting. I took to watching her. “She was attractive and wore nice clothes. I became fascinated by the way she breathed, not out and in, as I had supposed all people did, but up and down. The lace jabot on her breast would move up and down, up and down. Of course, as I grew older, I realized that she breathed that way from tight lacing. But at the time it seemed to me more refined than the common way. And then I saw that she was going to sneeze. I’ve always hated to see people sneeze--they make such a fuss. But this lady prepared. She was quite calm. The jabot lifted high with the breath she took. At the vital moment she was ready.” “And did she sneeze, my poor child?” “Oh, yes, doctor, but so neatly. She just leaned out and did it without any fuss at all. Afterward, she didn’t sniff or even wipe her eyes. She was very wonderful. I often think of her.” Shyly Dolores glanced up to see if the great intelligence had anticipated her point. “The station was draughty. When my turn came, I breathed up and down and prepared. I made up my mind to sneeze the lady’s way. And I did. And afterward, the ambition to sneeze her way applied to other things--decided me to take the draughts of life neatly--to be prepared and make no fuss. I try and try, Dr. Willard. But I guess self-control is not enough. Don’t you think people would understand me better if I had your religion? Is it too late for me to learn it now?” “Emphatically not, you fatherless child.” The doctor apparently had been touched by her conversational offering. Real feeling quivered on the face bent over hers. “And there are other comforts it is not too late for you to learn. Lean your lonely heart against mine. Let me teach you a father’s love.” “If you would--oh, if you only would!” She seized his hands and pressed one cheek against them. “It is so easy to learn from one you absolutely trust.”